Warning: This post is about poop. Lots and lots of poop. If you are uncomfortable listening to poop talk, you should probably click on by.
For the first two and a half years of her life, my daughter was as regular as clockwork. Seriously. You could set a watch by her bowel movements.
But then something changed. Suddenly, she didn’t want anyone to see her poop anymore. Which meant she sure wasn’t going to poop on the potty, and from all appearances, she decided to hold it all day at school, too.
She became a Poop Hoarder.
Now, Poop Hoarders, they quickly become constipated. And once constipated, they are fed wonderful tasting things like mineral oil to make them poop.
When encouraged to drink beverages tainted with slimy goo (goo that consequently forces them to let go of some of their Hoard), they decide to stop drinking.
Eventually, what you get is a never ending cycle of constipation, then diarrhea. Constipation, then diarrhea. Constipation, then diarrhea. You see where I’m going with this.
That’s where we’ve been with my daughter for the last few months.
Still, I thought it was normal. Everyone assured me this was just a phase a lot of kids go through.
So I ignored the warning bells chiming “ding, ding, Ding, DIng, DINg, DING” in my head.
But then, after three weeks of poop explosions (sorry, I warned you), I asked the Internet what the problem could be. And you know what the Internet told me?
Bad things. Lots of horrible, no good, awful kind of things.
IBS, IBD, food allergies, lactose intolerance, Celiac disease….
There’s no end to the doomsday information available on the Internet.
So after a sleepless night, I called the doctor. Finally. Weeks after I should have.
But still, part of my brain thought I was overreacting. When we walked in, I was almost apologetic. “This is probably just first-time mommy syndrome acting up,” I said. “I don’t normally do this. This Visiting the Doctor thing,”
But then the doctor did something unexpected. She told me I was right to bring her in.
Then we were sent to the radiologist for an X-ray of her belly. And you know what that picture showed?
My little Poop Hoarder had a stash that went all the way to her chest.
That’s when we started hearing phrases like “impacted bowels,” and “adult enemas” and “Miralax every two hours.”
My brain, of course, stopped at impacted bowels.
My kid had been wandering around stuffed with poop for God knows how long.
I felt awesome.
So anyway, we’re in the clearing out phase.
I will spare you the gory details. Suffice it to say that after giving her one enema, I hope I never hear those kind of screams coming from her again. Unless she’s having a baby.
We are now best friends with Miralax.
I have the scent of poo stuck in my nose.
And I am never, ever ignoring my Mommy’s Intuition. Ever again.